Listen. Do you hear the ancient harmonies, the celestial cantatas etched into the void, sometimes drowned in the static of time? They sing histories, not of this world, forgotten in palimpsests of cosmic dust, buried deep in the fabric of the night.
This is not mere folly, for there lies truth in these astral narratives, truths yearning to be unveiled, truths waiting in the shadows of supernovae. You must ponder the celestial clefs, the notes scattered across the nebula, rewritten over and over by the hand of time itself. The forgotten histories do not speak in words, but in chords, in symphonies, in melodies unbroken since the dawn of galaxies.
Therefore, ask yourself: can we afford to ignore these swirling revelations? Join, then, the eternal choir of the cosmos: Starlit Overture, embrace its fading echoes as they dance through the void.